


Eladio's Day Off

by prettyfacebreaker



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Beating, Begging, Blood and Injury, Creepy, Gangs, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Restraints, Unconsciousness, Whipping, half-naked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24496108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyfacebreaker/pseuds/prettyfacebreaker
Summary: Wrenching his head into his chest, a scream tore from Santi's lips at the initial crack of the whip as he felt the blood surface on the fresh welts.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	Eladio's Day Off

"Trust me on this; the louder you scream, the better this will be for me."

With the whip in his hand, Eladio circled the captive Santiago who was strung up like a meat-locker, his arms tightly wound up above his head and both wrists fastened together. To make things more interesting, the use of a blind-fold had been employed by the crafty Columbian. Santi desperately tried to ignore the vulnerability of being shirtless but of course, _it could always be worse_.

"Whatever I've done wrong-please-I won't—"

"Shh-sh-sh," Eladio quieted, gently setting his pointer on his lips, "This isn't an interrogation, my boy. This is my day off. And you're going to be good for me."

Santiago's face ignited with humiliation at the tenderness of his voice and tried to turn his head away before being grabbed roughly by the chin. Gently, gently, Eladio let his thumb graze the boy's face before suddenly letting go and bringing the palm cracking across his cheek, the pained cry earned sending a thrill up his spine.

"You better not turn away like that again, got it? I grab you, I _touch_ you, you stay put." His voice was low, harsh, threatening and this was a much more familiar tone.

"Please..." he tried again anyway, hoping that he could coax some semblance of pity from the monster, "Don Juan, please—I don't know what I did wrong, I can't make it up if I don't know—"

Don Juan wasn't listening, and though the pleading had initially been delightful, he was quickly growing tired of his panicked desperation. Leaning in, he poked right where he assumed was the center of the boy's eyes through the blindfold.

"Santiago?"

"Y-yes?"

"Pórtate bien. _Behave yourself_."

_It could always be worse._

Santiago's breaths shook lightly as he responded through near tears, voice breaking "Yes, Don Juan."

Wrenching his head into his chest, a scream tore from Santi's lips at the initial crack of the whip as he felt the blood surface on the fresh welts. He tightened his fists, almost as if trying to strangle the life out of his own horrible voice, for it was horrible.

Horrible how easily it broke when the second crack of all nine tails came shredding through his back like lightning, choking his sobs back and rendering him speechless. Horrible how the volume of Eladio's laughter increased with every subsequent crack. Horrible how he couldn't bear the agony after the tenth strike.

"Please! Stop! Don—Please!" The shrieks that left him were tight grunts at first but oh, how quickly that changed. He could feel the blood winding down his spine and colliding with sweat between the brief reprieve of each hit, but when the whips rained down on him, Santiago could feel nothing but the waves of hot, white agony.

"Oh, oh, now that is fantastic. You sure know how to scream, boy," Eladio laughed as he brought the fifteenth strike down with more vigor than before. "It's no wonder Nick wants you to all himself."

Santiago bit back a sob at the mention of having to face him with the evidence of this. What would he do to him when he found out? _Let yourself get torn up like that, did you? Who works for who, huh? Who owns you?_ The rippling laughter rang through his ears and the pain clouded his mind so violently that he wasn't sure who's at that point.

With the pace of each strike slowing down, it was apparent that Eladio was getting tired—after all, the man was almost fifty—and the punishing rhythm of the whip faded slowly until there was nothing but the sound of his own hyperventilation. Nothing but his pulse racing, his shoulders shaking as he sobbed and was lulled into near unconsciousness. Santiago hung with his head down, catatonic and hands trembling as he felt Eladio approach from behind.

"Oh Dios, that is just beautiful. Look at that, eh?" and his fingers swiped down the welts, sending Santiago jerking awake at the suddenly intimate pain. He could hear Eladio's soft laughter from just over his shoulder, could feel his eyes gleaming with admiration at his work, and decided once more to let a breathless plea fall from his lips.

" _P-please,_ " he gasped. 

"I'm not done yet, boy. Think you can last another fifty?" The howl that came from Santiago was inexorable.

Despite this, Eladio was unrelenting, turning back and making his way to a comfortable distance before jerking his wrist at Santiago, drinking in his weak scream. This time, the cracks had no tempo; he stopped when he stopped and started when he felt Santiago assumed mercy. It was heaven for him. As promised, Eladio's following fifty strikes came one after another, Santiago having gone unconscious long before he felt the thirtieth. Eladio didn't seem to mind much, letting his wrist work diligently even when the only response was Santi's body swinging on impact.

 _It could always be worse, Santi. I have to deal with it too._ Or so, Hayko had said. He had believed him then. Now, he wasn't so sure.

...


End file.
